Dead Days: Season 3 (Books 13-18)

by Casey, Ryan

  She kept her eyes on Ursula, who hadn’t moved.

  She bit into her lip. Bit into it hard.

  Come on, Mum. Please help me. Please.

  She winced as she lifted her right foot quickly off the noisy floorboard and brought it down on the one in front.

  As she lifted it, the floorboard made an even bigger creak than it had before. A creak that Ursula had to have heard.

  But when Chloë looked back at the bed, Ursula was still sleeping. Still had her eyes closed. Still breathing, steadily.

  Chloë turned to the cabinet. It was right in front of her now. If she could just get there, she could look through the drawers. And if she didn’t find the keys, then maybe she could find a gun or something as a weapon to scare Ursula and make her let Jordanna and the other people out. If they were even still alive.

  She took it one step at a time. Stepped on some creaky but quieter floorboards. Got closer to the cabinet. Closer and closer, until her hands were touching the rough wood of it and‌—‌

  Something tumbled off the top of it.

  She watched it fall‌—‌a round silver earring, which had been resting loosely on the side.

  She watched it fall in slow motion. Watched it hurtle towards the floorboards.

  Heard it rattle against the floorboards, then chink against the floor as it rolled under the bed.

  Chloë was still again. Still, in the perfect silence, in the moonlit darkness of Ursula’s room. She lifted her head slowly. Lifted it so she could see Ursula, who was just the other side of her now.

  But still, Ursula’s eyes were closed. Still, she was breathing as normal.

  Chloë felt tingling all in her arms as she turned back to the cabinet. There were three drawers. Three drawers that she had to look inside. But she had to look quietly. She couldn’t wake Ursula up, not after coming this far.

  She held her breath again and reached for the round handle of the top drawer. Tugged gently against it, to make sure there was nothing rattly in there.

  The drawer just opened up with the slightest of force.

  Other than the smell of damp wood and a few loose pennies, there was nothing in there.

  Chloë bit her lip and closed it again. She looked at the second drawer. She’d definitely seen Ursula messing with something in one of these drawers. There had to be something inside one of them.

  She tugged at it gently. Again, this drawer slid right open.

  And again, there was nothing inside.

  Chloë stared down at the empty drawer. Her heart picked up and she could see it beating again, which the girls used to always tease her about at school, saying she had a monster heart. This couldn’t be right because she’d seen Ursula messing in these drawers. She’d seen her with her hands in one of the top two and she’d…‌

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the creaking of floorboards behind her.

  The sides of her head felt like they were going to pop. The tingly feeling in her belly got tinglier and tinglier.

  The floorboards were definitely creaking. Definitely creaking towards her.

  She held her breath. Held her hands tight.

  Then she turned around in one quick movement.

  Ursula was standing opposite Chloë. The moonlight from the window behind her made it hard to see her face, and she just looked like a big tall evil thing, like a ghost.

  But she was holding her neck. Or something around her neck.

  “Looking for this?” Ursula asked, as she thumbed with something around her neck, one of the necklaces.

  At first, Chloë thought about just saying “Yes. That locket is mine.” Then at least Ursula wouldn’t think she’d been doing what she’d really been doing‌—‌looking for the handcuff keys.

  But as Ursula stepped closer to her, she realised she wasn’t holding the locket at all.

  She was holding a metal-beaded chain, hidden under the other necklaces she’d seen earlier.

  And on it were lots of small keys.

  “You’ve been very bad, Beatrice,” she said, with angry dog eyes and a twitching mouth. “Very bad.”

  Chapter Five: Pedro

  Pedro had seen some weird shit since the world went tits up, but seeing this woman leaning against the front of the green Mercedes van with a frigging baby on her lap was just about the weirdest.

  At first, as he stood there in the darkness, he wasn’t sure what to do, or what to say. This scene, it gave him a nasty taste in his mouth, although that was probably the plaque from his unbrushed teeth. And the way this dark-haired woman looked back at him, the way she had that mix of fear and hope on her face like every singled damned human being seemed to have these days, it didn’t make things any easier.

  “Pedro? Are you okay?”

  The voice came from the back of the van. Tamara’s. Or maybe Barry’s. He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t thinking straight. His eyes were too focused on the little baby wrapped in that filthy blue towel resting on this checkered-top-wearing woman’s legs.

  He was too busy wondering what the hell he was going to do about this woman to even think about responding.

  “Are you…‌” he started, but he wasn’t sure what he was going to say. He needed to chat with Tamara. Chat with Barry and the others. This woman carrying a baby, she was a survivor.

  But how had she got here? How the hell had she ended up in the middle of a pissing motorway in the pitch black of the early hours?

  “Please,” the woman said. Her voice was weak, shrill. Just hearing it made the hairs on Pedro’s arms stand up. Made her a reality all of a sudden. A living, breathing, talking reality.

  “Please don’t hurt us,” she continued. She brought her baby closer to her chest. Pedro could see she was quivering, the poor thing. But of course she was, out here in the freezing cold. This wasn’t right. It was off. Completely off.

  “Pedro, what’s…‌?”

  The gasp from Tamara came way before Pedro had a chance to answer. She was beside Pedro now. And judging by the “Holy shit” that followed in a deep voice, so too was Barry. Pedro wasn’t too sure though. His head was spinning. Every damned thing was out of focus.

  “Please‌—‌please don’t…‌Me and my baby. Please. We’re‌—‌we’re not going to hurt you. We’re not‌—‌”

  “Darling, darling,” Tamara said. She approached the woman slowly. A part of Pedro wanted to stop her, to hold her back as the icy wind rustled against the metal of the cars. “We aren’t gonna hurt you. We’re here for you. We’re‌—‌we’re survivors too, just like you. See?”

  Tamara lifted a hand out to the woman. The woman flinched away, but eventually let Tamara’s hand get closer and closer. She gripped her baby tight to her skinny chest. Her eyes were wide and wild, like a dog trapped in a cage after taking a good beating for the past thirty weeks.

  “You’re okay,” Tamara said. “What’s…‌what’s your name, honey? I’m‌—‌I’m Tamara. That man with the bald head there is Pedro. The big…‌the other one, that’s Barry.”

  “Mummy, who are you talking to?”

  The high-pitched voice came from Pedro’s right. Took him by surprise. He hadn’t heard or seen Josh sneak up on them like that. Made him extra-wary of just how sneaky the goons might wander up should they decide to chow down on him.

  “And…‌and this is Josh,” Tamara said. She smiled, turned and pointed at her son. “My son. My boy. See? We’re not going to hurt you.”

  The woman clutched her baby even more tightly to her chest. She was breathing rapidly, little clouds of air creeping out of her mouth. Her wide eyes juddered between Tamara, Pedro, Barry and Josh, as if she were an X-Ray machine trying to see through them, trying to get the better of them.

  “Not…‌not going to hurt,” the woman said. God, she looked so cold. Her lips were bordering on blue. Or was that just the moonlight making them look that way? Pedro hoped for her sakes it was.

  “Course we aren’t,” Tamara said. She squeezed the woman on her arm. S
he winced a bit at that, panted fast, then steadied herself as if she’d forgotten and remembered who Tamara was in the space of a second.

  She looked at Pedro again. Held that look with her brown eyes for a few seconds. Squinted at him slightly, like she was trying to see through his soul, if he even had one of the damn things.

  “There’s…‌there’s others. Other bad people. Zombies but…‌but bad people too.”

  “We know, honey,” Tamara said. “We know. Do you…‌do you have a name?”

  A pause. More scanning eyes. More hesitation.

  “I’m…‌I’m Elaine.”

  “Elaine,” Tamara said. Josh was at his mum’s side now, crouched down next to her. Barry was huffing, puffing, grunting‌—‌doing what Barry did.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Tamara continued. “And your baby?”

  Elaine’s eyes widened again. She started panting. Looked at her baby, squeezed the bundle closely to her chest.

  And then she calmed again. Loosened her grip, much like she had with Tamara just before.

  “My…‌my baby. Yes. It’s…‌My baby’s called John. He’s…‌John’s got a bad cough. The bad people, they wanted to take him away but…‌but I wouldn’t let them have my John. Never.”

  Elaine’s eyes met Pedro’s again. Held a stare for a few seconds.

  Bad people wanted to take him away.

  Pedro was going to comment on this when he heard a rattling in the distance. It was behind the van somewhere. When he turned to look, he could see nothing but darkness. But he could hear something. Hear something echoing away, something that would be upon them soon.

  “We should go inside,” Pedro said. “It ain’t safe out here. Not for anyone. Especially not for a mother and her baby.”

  “Wait,” Barry said. His voice was sharp. “You’re actually suggesting we take her in with us?”

  Pedro frowned. “Well we can hardly leave her out here can we? Come on. Let’s get in the van so we can‌—‌”

  “Elaine,” Barry cut in, turning from Pedro. “Pleasure to meet you. Have you been bitten?”

  “Barry!” Tamara gasped.

  “No,” Pedro said. “Barry’s…‌Barry’s right to ask.” He didn’t agree with Barry’s methods, but they had to be thorough. They couldn’t invite a woman into the back of their van and let her join them on blind faith. She could turn on them in the night. Sink her teeth into their flesh, each and every one of them.

  Besides, there was something a little off about her. The way she’d just cropped up out of nowhere. Where was she going? Where had she come from?

  Another rattling in the distance. Sounded like this time it came more from Pedro’s left. They needed to get back in the van. They really needed to get the hell inside, whoever this woman was or not.

  “Guys, we really need to‌—‌”

  “Just answer the question,” Barry said, voice raised. “Have you been bit?”

  Elaine’s bottom lip quivered. “N‌—‌no,” she said. “No.”

  A small weight lifted from Pedro’s shoulders. He started walking back around the side of the green van. The sounds were getting closer. And besides, it was bloody cold as hell‌—‌or whatever the opposite to hell was‌—‌out here.

  “Thank the lord for that. Now come on‌—‌”

  “I haven’t,” Elaine said, lips quivering even more, eyes bloodshot and watery. “But…‌But my John has.”

  Chapter Six: Riley

  Although Riley was relieved for the fresh air on his face, he wasn’t relieved to see what was outside Bunker 749. What was making the noise.

  There were three green trucks, or vans, or whatever people called them. Military vehicles‌—‌that was how Riley always thought of them. Three of them, just like the ones Ivan and Pedro had appeared out of nowhere to save Riley and the others in.

  The event that really kick-started the entire fall.

  Riley could smell gas in the cold evening air. He could hear the voices, so much clearer now. In the distance, he could see torchlight. Light from torches moving around as these army people did whatever it was they were doing.

  “Tell me I’m not the only one sad to see it’s army,” Riley said. He was perched on the back of the powered wheelchair, gun pointing outside of the door, feeling utterly hopeless.

  Alan narrowed his mouth and let out a grunt. “If it even is army. Plenty of these vehicles have been lying around for somebody worse to come along.”

  Riley gulped. Gulped, watched the lights of the torches drift into some trees to the left. “When they see I’m bitten. When they…‌when they see the state I’m in…‌You should go on your own. Explain to them‌—‌”

  “I’m bitten too, Riley,” Alan said. “Do you think they’ll buy my story of being bitten two weeks?”

  Riley looked down at the blood oozing from each of his legs, the temporary bandages soaked with blood. “I think they’ll believe you more than me.”

  Alan stared ahead at the vans. They were around fifty, sixty metres away. And the surroundings‌—‌Riley could see buildings in the distance, like mountains on a horizon, but they appeared to be in the middle of a field. A wide, open field that would be easy enough to drive through.

  Riley thought about the pain in his legs. Thought about what it meant for him. He was dying. He was getting dizzier by the minute. He was a lost cause. And some time, some time during the night, he was going to close his eyes and not wake up again. Not in his current form, anyway. A monster would wake up in his place. A parasite within would take hold.

  But he had a duty. He’d sworn he’d help Alan. He couldn’t leave Alan on his own to fight his way through whatever other obstacles lay ahead. Alan was a survivor. A rare breed. He could help. He could save people.

  “If you’re insisting on my survival, then we’re going to make a break for one of those vehicles before the group get back.”

  Alan glared at Riley. “What‌—‌you in your wheelchair and me hobbling along?”

  “If you’ve got a better suggestion, I’m looking forward to hearing it.”

  Alan sighed. The pair of them looked back outside, still getting used to the coolness of the air, so much fresher than the tunnel air. Still adjusting to the laughter, the voices, of other people.

  “They might…‌they might be innocent people,” Alan said.

  “What?”

  “Those people. They might be innocent. We can’t just…‌just steal their vehicles.”

  Riley couldn’t help himself from laughing. “You’ve changed your tune.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Well…‌Two days ago you were telling me that some people were more important than others. That humanity just had to find its own way. Survival of the fittest, sort of thing.”

  Alan waved off Riley’s remarks, his forehead flushing as if he wasn’t pulled up all that often. “That was then. This is now.”

  “It is,” Riley said. “And we’re going to make a move. They might be innocent, sure. But they’ve still got two cars left.” He thought back to the Smart Car that he’d piled himself into with Pedro, Anna, and Aaron back at Morecambe. “You’d be surprised how many people fit into a car when they really want to.”

  Alan looked around the entrance to this bunker, which was literally like a hole in the ground‌—‌so subtle it could simply be a manhole cover, or an electricity station, or something like that. No wonder nobody ever even batted an eyelid. No wonder Riley had never noticed the secret-fucking-tunnel system running along the spine of the country.

  “We only get one shot at this,” Alan said.

  Riley patted him on the back, but even stretching out his arm made him hurt and ache now. “That’s the‌—‌that’s the spirit.”

  Another slight pause from Alan. Another sigh. “We…‌we should probably check the vehicles first. Check the keys are inside and there’s nobody in there. So who first? You or me?”

  Riley stared at the green armoured
vehicle nearest. Fifty metres away. Hopefully this wheelchair could move him fast enough. Damn, he’d become quite a runner these last few months too. Probably could’ve run an Olympic sprint with the amount of running he’d done.

  The Olympics last year. Sat in front of the telly watching it with Ted in the stifling heat of his flat. The smell of cheesy nachos strong in the air as they cheered Victoria Pendleton on and on…‌

  He shoved that memory away. It made his eyes water.

  “I’ll go,” Riley said.

  He grabbed the large black knob of the powered wheelchair and pushed it forward. Never used one of these things before, but they seemed simple enough. Better bloody had be simple enough.

  Sure enough, he lurched forward out of the bunker entrance, up a little concrete ramp that led onto the grass.

  “Good luck,” Alan whispered. “Just‌—‌just give me the thumbs up and I’ll be there as quick as…‌well. As quick as an old man with a gammy leg.”

  Riley powered on in his wheelchair. He felt exposed all of a sudden. He’d got quite used to the claustrophobia of the tunnel‌—‌at least he knew where everything was in there, knew the boundaries and the limits. But here, as he got further out in the open, he looked around and saw tall trees, a wide expanse of fields. Blanket after blanket of darkness hiding all the horrors of the world.

  But he couldn’t think about the what-ifs now. He couldn’t think about the what-might-happens. He was bitten as it was. Now was just about powering on. Powering on to this vehicle.

  Thirty metres. Still no sign of movement.

  Twenty metres. The torches of the people in the woods far enough away, their voices muffled by distance.

  He breathed in deeply. He could do this. He was almost there.

  It was when he got to ten metres that he heard something splutter beneath him.

  And it was when he got to nine metres that he felt the powered wheelchair getting slower, and slower, and…‌